Dead Star
by arctique48
Summary: We belong in the night – My family and I. The ghost, the vampire, the little lost princess. There was Sirius the rebel, and then there was me. So desperate to shine in a world of dead stars. I paid the price.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Hogwarts etc belongs to JKR.**

The darkness our family aspired to had affected us all differently…

Sirius it suffocated, draining his soul until he could do nothing without escaping. His eyes lay dark in the times he spent at home, restless but silent. A caged lion, pacing and pacing but the bars could not be broken. Whether the confines were physical or simply resided in his mind was difficult to tell, but in his teenage years he truly hated our parents, the bonds that tied him to the monotonous life of a pureblood.

Narcissa it complimented, giving her the angelic glow of one of heaven, or cast from heaven perhaps. Her beauty was accentuated with every flicker of the candle's flame, light and dark combined to give her the appearance of misused innocence. Bride of the Underworld. Flower of the night. She held the cold beauty of moonlight dancing over shadowed ice, her every move a displaying the grace of an immortal Goddess.

Andromeda it shone on, challenging. The darkness drove her to prove herself, to escape the control of her family. The stark blank of the night taunted her, like a canvas waiting to be painted. She wanted to make her mark. Ideals she had picked up in Hogwarts provided the perfect inspiration and one night she saw it, the future she could have in escaping the shadows. Her Perseus had come for her and she was free from her iron bonds.

Bellatrix it inspired, bringing to her an endless supply of possibilities, for what is more of a mystery than the shadows, the dark? The darkness lead her down to the dungeons of her mind, opening doors in her psych until she had the Dark ability to rival that of the one she served. She was fallen. Aspirations of Hell the driving force in her life. Queen of the Damned. Her beauty frightened and inspired, her cruelty even more so… I fail to remember when it was her sanity left her, but when it did she was deadly like nothing else my family had known. She had taken the darkness of her family's blood and made it her own, she had made it Evil.

Then there was me: Little Regulus.

I it controlled, warping my mind to fit the ideals of my family. Fear, need for acceptance, want to prove myself… the reasons varied, but all were sprung from the darkness of our upbringing. My childhood was riddled with the conflicting principles of both parents and brother; I had only wished to make them proud.

If only I had seen it then… Would choosing my brother over my blood have bought me the salvation I long for? As it were I took the easy route out. I chose servitude when I should have fought, bowed when I should have been running… How many people mourned my pathetic passing? My half mad mother: poisoned by age and her rotting dignity? My father was dead, my brother disowned. My cousins had their own families to worry for, their own Dark Lords to worship…

He told me there was a world where the shadows no longer reigned and all men were equal, and I did not believe him. He told me "Some things are worth dying for" and I did not understand.

Then one day he told me I was scum.

And I knew he was right.

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**AN:** Hmmm... i was considering doing a little story about Regulus and his family, his life/death etc... just cause i've never read one i really liked. Should i bother? Anyone gonna read it? How's this for a prologue? Would i be better off crawling under a rock to die? Review? Please? 


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Hogwarts etc. belongs to JKR.**

**AN:** I wrote this aaaaages ago... Yeah. Tell me what you think.

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_I sit, knees drawn up to my chest, listening in silence to the heavy pounding of the rain outside. The noise shatters in my ears, engraving itself in my thoughts…Regimented they march. Step. Step. Step. So controlled but fuelled with anger and passion and bitterness… An army of icicle infantry, a downpour. And I am inside, detached from that world of heated emotion. I sit here and I wait, because there has been no use screaming or pleading anymore. I did wrong by Him and in my situation it turned out to be unforgivable. _

_So I sit here in silence and neither cry nor plead for mercy I know he does not possess. I sit and I wait for the time to come. I wait and I remember, because even though it will make me regret further I feel I owe them that at least. For all those times he tried to warn me… Tried lead me away, whether by subtle coaxing or full out arguments with lectures on morals only he seems to posses… He was my brother and he tried to help me, though in the end I spat it back in his face and now I sit here, in the dark, in the midst of the pounding rain, I think and I regret, waiting for the final blow to come._

_He told me so many times and I just would not listen.

* * *

_

I've been told the day I was born was a terrible one.

When I was little Sirius would sit on my bed and tell me how there was snow and wind and rain and hail and horrible growling noises of werewolves and the evil looking ivy that grew over the window. He said that father had been pacing as though there was a legion of harpies on his tail, back and forth, back and forth, and he had been muttering about evil dark things like 'war' and 'famine' and 'pestilence' and 'muggles'. He told me the day I was born the sky had been dark and the candles flickered out so it was all done by wand light. He told me he had looked it up in a divination book and all these things were omens and it meant I would grow up to be short and fat with freckles and a limp. He said I might be a squib too, but that would require further research.

And I sat there, gazing in horror at my six-year-old brother (so old and wise because he could write out his whole name in quill and ink) and I believed every word. I would have cried had Sirius not told me crying was a sure sign of lack of magic. ("Crying is for muggles, Reggie, you don't want Father finding out you were crying, he'll feed you to them. They eat wizards, you know. They'll stick you on a spit and burn you alive if they get hold of you.") He had told me not to tell anyone that I knew though… They didn't want me to know that I was destined to be magicless and limping, he said there might be a cure so don't upset Mummy. ("I saw her, I did. Healers said she nearly died. Said you were almost the death of her. She was crying and all red and ugly. Ugly! You did that to her, Regs. Made her blotchy. So don't tell her you know, 'cause it gets her awful worked up.") And I was scared then. Three years old, curled up in my velvet and silk quilt, I was scared out of my mind. A Black with freckles? My father would throw me to the muggles for sure!

I had asked Narcissa, careful not to tell her I knew, what it was like the day I was born. She had looked at me kindly and smiled. "Well, it was April wasn't it. The beginning of Spring. It rained a bit I think (they took us to see you and Auntie, you know) but it was quite nice… You were born at night. You're named after a star, you know. Regulus the lion. I'm a flower and Andy's a princess, isn't it clever?"

"So I'm not a squib?" I asked, hope bubbling in my chest.

"A squib… Salazar, I hope not." She replied with a giggle.

* * *

All my life all I had ever wanted to do was make them proud. My family: everyone from Narcissa to Sirius. I wanted to stand out as the perfect Slytherin as Bellatrix did, to be popular in school like Sirius, as likable as Andy and as distant and regal as Cissa. But above all I wanted to be myself. I wanted to be my own person, so that when my name was heard it would not simply summon a image of my family coat of arms or my parents' faces, but trigger recognition, even admiration. I wanted to stand out and be respected for it.

Sirius and Bella made this seem so easy. Their personalities burned recognition into the minds of all whose paths they crossed, so similar and yet so opposite. Their tempers were legendary and they fought often. Tidal wave of ice meeting an inferno, lion meets snake, light battling with dark. They were both beautiful. Tall. Harsh. Proud. Aristocratic and arrogant. Dark features, dark hair and even darker souls, from the day they were born they were destined to battle. Born to fight for what _they_ believed in, rather than the thoughts of others. Their strong-minded differences held everything I could never be.

"_Sirius, give it back!"_

"_No!" Chirped the boy, scampering down the stairs with flushed cheeks and a mad grin._

"_Mu-um," little Bellatrix whined, "Sirius took my doll!"_

"_Sirius, give her doll back."_

"_I don't have it ma'am." All innocent eyes and sweet smiles. "Reggie's holding it." _

_And typically, it was that moment that Mother chose to walk in, with Bella crying for her doll, Sirius looking innocent and concerned, and me clutching the china faced girl I'd been thrown a few seconds before._

"_Regulus Cassius Black! What in Slytherin's name do you think you're doing?"_

"_I – erm. Sorry?"_

_"Sorry? You think sorry is good enough? You will be helping Sirius and Kreature dust out the attic tonight, no excuses."_

_Sirius looked outraged. "_What_? I didn't do anything!"_

"_And if you honestly expect me to believe that Sirius, you're far more stupid than your father claims." She snapped before sweeping out of the room, her sister in tow. _

Before Hogwarts I had in my mind a perfect image of what my life would be like when, at eleven years old, I would begin school. It was a wonderful picture; full of shining suits of armour and ghosts. I dreamed of my life as a proud Slytherin, with Slytherin robes, Slytherin friends and Slytherin family. I would be sneaky. I would be cunning. I would be proud and I would be respected. I saw myself in Slytherin quidditch uniform, chasing the golden snitch and catching it. I saw myself congratulated by my father for my perfect grades and beamed at by my mother for my excellent choice in a beautiful, pureblood girlfriend.

It was wonderful. Sometimes at night, while I listened to the grandfather clock in the hall chime away the hours, I would lie in bed and imagine standing from my sorting to walk (regally of course) over to the Slytherin table. I would picture sitting between my brother and cousin – Siri and Bella, the pride of our house, our blood – and be introduced to their beautiful, influential, pureblood friends. I saw myself eating with my brother in the mornings, to the envy of all my peers, watching him fly for the house team and then teaching me too.

We were Blacks, and something in the way Sirius would challenge everything, always fighting to better his situation, gave me reason to believe we would be the best. We could be better even than my father and his brother, the pride of our name and blood. Only eight years old, but I still had aspirations. Aspirations of dark and power, money and prestige.

But that all changed.

My perfect dream was suddenly shattered by that one letter received on September 2nd the year my brother started school.

I remember my father shouting and drinking, the usually icily composed man throwing chairs and kicking house elves. I remember my mother sobbing uncontrollably into the arms of her sister-in-law (because they were in it together. All Blacks. All tainted by that giant mistake). We had watched from the stairs, Bella and I, crouched in the shadows, wide eyed.

In those weeks following I had thought it better for my brother to have died. Gryffindor. The word was like bile in my throat. My mother was a wreck, unable to tear herself from her chambers for the shame of meeting the outside world. My father stormed into Hogwarts, demanding the headmaster resort Sirius, but the Professor confirmed our deepest fears: It had been his own choice, his wish to break away… I wondered if he realised that in breaking away he was breaking us down. But perhaps, father spat, that was his aim.

I thought saw it clearly then what for so many years I had missed. Sirius always had a wicked temper and a blunt honestly that made my cousins cringe, I had never seen before that he so often lacked the subtlety that made a Slytherin… His ambitions were on par with Bella, he wanted so much with his life – but never, never ever had I considered this. He could lie and lie well but personal gain was never top of his agenda. He held more compassion that even Andromeda, and the knowledge of this made me both love and hate him in the extreme.

His ambitions, a trait solely belonging to sons of Salazar Slytherin, had led his to do the unthinkable. Gryffindor. I was in shock. Horrified at what I could only see as a deep and personal betrayal. He had destroyed it. All I ever wanted for myself in life, it all centred on him being there, on him being that guiding big brother I had always seen him as. But Gryffindor. It was unforgivable. It would never ever be the same again. This I knew with such certainty I almost cried (but not quite. I was a Black. He may find it fine to back out of an obligation to his own blood, but I would never let my family down in such a way. Tears were weakness and weakness was not something a Black would tolerate).

It was then –as I sat in the parlour listening to the broken sobs of my mother– that I swore on the very blood that flowed in my veins, that I would never do this to my family. That I would not do what Sirius had done. I would never go against my blood.

* * *

That summer I dreaded the return of my sibling, expecting to see my childhood companion dressed in muggle clothes, singing Gryffindor songs while holding hands with dirty mudbloods. Standing on that platform, a proud son of Black in my freshly pressed black and silver robes, I longed more than anything to go back. To change time and find my brother again. My Slytherin brother who would sooner spit in his father's face than join the house of the Lion. I stood there and feared with all my heart what I would see as the train drew to a halt_. What if he refused to come? What if he had found another family, a Gryffindor one? What if the Weasleys took him under their wing? What if he went home with a Mudblood?_

But I did not see that. Any of it.

When the doors swung open and the students started pouring out all I saw was Sirius, my big brother, bounding towards us smirking as though he had just switched the sugar for salt in Grandfather's tea (though in hindsight that could have something to do with the explosion and foul smell that caused the platform to evacuate). He ruffled my hair, poked his tongue at Bella and strutted off after my parents as though he owned the world. The only evidence of any mishap was in the tight muscles in my fathers jaw and the way that just before we left the station Sirius turned and grinned at a dark haired boy with glasses and red lined robes.

I tried to hate him, truly I did. I told myself again and again that he was wrong and he was weak and he was not one of us, but when I saw him take beating after beating from father and still come to tell me about the food and the forest and the quidditch stands before he went to bed, I respected and adored him more than ever.

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**Review!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Hogwarts etc belongs to JKR.**

**AN:** This chapter (sorry it's not a particularly exciting one...) is dedecated to the lovely Miss Denebola Black, who's kindly volunteered to translate this story into Portuguese. I thank ye muchly.

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Another year passed and Bella made the family proud. Joining Narcissa in the house of snakes.

I was never sure what I felt when I received her letters from Hogwarts. She wrote too me once a month and yet, as grateful as I was for her correspondence, I couldn't help thinking how much happier I would be were it my brother sending me letters. I never heard from him while he was at school and the more I thought about it the more it upset me, if Bellatrix had the time to write to me surely my own brother should?

Despite her occasional letters those next two years for me were like hell. The pressure my family once put on Sirius to succeed was passed to me. Sirius was a Gryffindor. Sirius was no heir of ours. My dream of a future as carefree Slytherin prince lay shattered with the remains of my brother's relationship with the family. As he grew older he moved further from us, new ideals bringing him to hate our blood.

Everyone was at Hogwarts now. I stayed alone at home, it being a long held tradition for families such as mine to not mix children before school age. During the summers I would listen to their tales of dark dungeons and high towers. Siri would talk to me about quidditch before running off to spend the holidays with his new Gryffindor friends. Bella would recount tales of late night meetings with snakes, rumours of Dark Lords and darker magic while Cissa would show me pictures of the Great Hall; tell me about masquerades and banquets. Sometimes even Andy would show me the spells she had learnt and laugh about the teachers she encountered, while writing to her Ravenclaw friends.

The more I thought about it the more I wanted to be like her. Andromeda had been sorted into Ravenclaw, the only house my parents would accept outside of Slytherin. She was Sirius's favourite of the family; they talked for hours about everything from setting up teachers to the politics surrounding the rising Darkness. She had the ability to please both crowds, her brains earning pride for the elders, while still neutral enough to communicate with Sirius without feeling like some cheap murderer.

Was it too much to remain loyal to my brother and parents? I tried to hate him. Honestly I did. But it never seemed to work.

'Ravenclaw', I thought, 'the answer to all my problems'… But standing before our family tree the solution seemed further away than ever.

_Too much loyalty.

* * *

Eleven years old. My birthday was a somewhat pathetic affair. 12th April, it was in the Easter holidays that year. This would usually mean that everyone would come home to spend the fortnight with me, but that year had not been a good one for my family._

Andromeda had left school that summer, eighteen years old and so sure of herself. She was not as she should have been, a proud pureblood woman of class. She refused her mother's offers to be 'presented' in the social circles of our society, refusing to 'dress up and find herself a husband'. Instead she moved out, going to live in a small wizarding apartment on the borders of muggle and magical London. She got herself a job in the Ministry to the dismay of my family (it was an utmost disgrace for a woman of high class to work for her keep, as a lowly secretary no less.) My Aunt was having fits at the very thought of it, and only Sirius was unwilling to agree with her protestations.

He said that we were being utterly backwards. That she had just as much right as the rest of us to earn a living, to make something more of her life than get married and have children. My father was appalled at such notions and whipped him in punishment before locking him in his room without food for three days. When he returned half a week later he was more bitter than I had seen him in a long time. Smouldering. That was the only thing I could think of to describe him at that moment. I may no longer have been close with my brother anymore, but I still knew him well enough to recognise the signs. He had only a certain amount of self-control and it was plain to see it was stretched thin. There was only so much more he could take and I knew that when he cracked it would not be pleasant for any involved.

He left later that week, much to my relief. The Potter's came to pick him up around lunchtime on the Friday and I had to admit I was deeply curious. Sirius's friends, or indeed any of his school life, were deeply taboo in our household and Sirius was not willing to talk with any other than Andromeda about it. It was to be expected that I would be somewhat curious about whom he spent his time with and why they were so unpopular with my parents, and when the house elf opened the door to two well-dressed purebloods I was understandably intrigued.

_These were the muggle loving scum mother was so disgusted by?_ I watched silently from my place on the stairs as Mother swept towards the door, to all the world a Queen, powerful and formidable.

"_Abigail_" she hissed upon reaching the door. The look of utter loathing on her face was mirrored by the woman on the doorstep. Nose in the air she regarded the other, the thin, wiry boy I'd seen Sirius wave to at the station, James Potter. It didn't take much to recognise they were some of the old bloods, ancient pureblood families who had deep magic written into their very genes. I was of one such family, as were many of those my parents associated with, but the Potter's were blood traitors, on par with the Prewetts and the Weasleys. My father said they had no regard for the sanctity of our way of life, he had once told me that it was people like the Potter's who would sell our entire world out to the muggles. He said it was people like them that had so many of our kind burned in past years and it was people like them that would be the death of magic through dilution in bad breeding.

"I've come to collect Sirius, if that's alright with you, Anastasia?" The woman spoke in a commanding tone I automatically associated with Andy when she was on one of her righteous protests that only Sirius seemed to actually understand. Were my mother not glaring at her with such venom I may have allowed myself to like her.

"And what business do you think you have in coming here to 'collect' my son?"

The witch on the doorstep smiled, displaying a row of neat white teeth. Mother glared.

"You must understand, having two sons of your own, that when bored they tend to become impossibly restless. James here has been requesting his friend's presence since the break of school and he arranged with Sirius that he could come and stay for the remainder of the summer."

With this Mother unleashed the haughtiest expression she possessed and sneered, "Just because your parenting skills aren't up to par and your… child" (This word was purred with an undertone of curious revulsion) "does not understand the concept of discipline, I see no reason to give up my son to entertain him, we have plans for him."

Abigail Potter's eyes flashed and for a moment I thought she would reach for her wand. "When your plans for you son consist of having him scrubbing the attic like a house elf I think I have every right to borrow him until the start of term!"

"Mum…" My eyes snapped in surprise to the face of Potter junior. Reproaching his parent? I could see why Sirius enjoyed his company, the boy was clearly as mad as he.

Ignoring her son, she continued, voice rising in righteous rage. "I've seen the scars on that poor boy's back, I have witnessed him break down at the memory of staying here, and you tell me I have no business! I could make this the business of the Ministry if you so wish it! He is underage and unable to defend himself, I could have you put away for child abuse!"

Rearing up to her full height Mother spat, "It's all he's good for, a blood traitor and a shame on the name of Black! You have no business here, _Mrs Potter_,"Her tone dripped with condescension while her eyes burned with pure, undiluted rage. "I will keep my son in whatever way I see fit, and _you_ will stay out of the business of my family before I have my husband _keep_ you out of it!"

I'm not entirely sure why I did it… But looking at James Potter, glaring at my mother with such anger, when she could curse him to Hell and back if she saw fit, all out of loyalty to my brother, and watching the defeated look flicker onto his face as his seething mother dragged him from the doorway and back onto the muggle street… something in that made me duck upstairs to Sirius's room at the back of the house.

He was lying on his bed when I came in, pretending to be asleep. Uncertainly I hovered in the doorway, before closing the door and crossing the room as quickly as possible.

"Sirius," I whispered, probably sounding utterly ridiculous in my desire not to be caught.

His eyes snapped open and he regarded me in vague irritation.

"I… Mrs Potter was just here. With your friend, James. They… They're outside, Mum just made them leave. They wanted to take you home with them, but she threatened to get Dad and they left, just now…" I said it in a rush and he just stared at me, close to gaping.

"And… well, I thought you might want to know, to catch them up or something before they leave… because I know you don't like it here and now Mum is really mad at you." I finished, now staring at my feet.

"Are you serious?" he asked finally, shrewd suspicion lining his features.

"Yeah." I whispered, hoping to Salazar Mother wouldn't somehow find out I'd told him.

And with that he leapt up, threw the remainders of his clothes, his broom and the contents of his desk into the trunk at the end of his bed before running for the door. Pausing at the top of the stairs he grinned, gave me a thumbs up, ("I owe you one, Regs."), and bolted for the front door.

Mother never guessed it was me who told him, but all the same, since that incident she barely consented to speak his name. In her eyes he had lowered himself to the muggle loving filth he spent the holiday with, and he was no longer someone she wished to associate her name with.

"Why can't we just wipe him from the tree and leave it at that?" I heard her screech at father one night, "He doesn't want to be a Black, off conniving with those… those Potters! I see no reason why he should hold the rights to our name!"

"Annie…" Father had murmured, apparently trying to sound comforting. "You know I've changed the will, the house will go the Regulus along with all the fortune and standing. You know we cannot cast him out – think what it would do to our reputation, giving up our son to those muggle loving bastards! It would not be acceptable. You do not want to be seen giving in to them."

"I know! I know… It's just… He has no respect! None whatsoever. Just left the house. He just left without even listening to what I had to say! Ran after them with all dignity forgotten! Is this the son we raised? Are we truly such bad parents?" She sounded so despairing, so distressed at the thought of sharing her name with such a mutinous boy.

I heard the shuffling of my father standing. "You mustn't blame yourself, it was never our fault. You know what they're saying these days – all this new-fangled nonsense about old blood turning bad, leading to madness and malcontent… It was just… unlucky. We can have him tested in St. Mungo's if you so wish it, to check? It wasn't his blood that got him sorted to Gryffindor. The Headmaster said it was entirely his choice, that resorting would make no difference. It's all in his head. We could get him therapy if it would put your mind to rest…"

I heard her sob a reply, that, yes, that would indeed be a comfort to her.

Understandably, when Sirius received this news he was less than happy. So unhappy in fact, that he sent my parents a howler, something that even managed to pass the usual boundaries of his temper and with several of my father's work colleagues around for the evening it was a shock my parents would rather have kept to themselves.

I remember sitting in the Library with a book when it went off, my father foolishly tried to silence it, resulting in it doubling in volume until you could hear the very walls of the house shake from the force.

"THERAPY? IF ANYONE SHOULD BE IN THEREAPY IT'S YOU! THERAPY BECAUSE I DON'T AGREE WITH YOUR SHALLOW MINDED PREACHING ABOUT THE EVILS OF BRAVERY AND MUGGLES! BECAUSE I REFUSE TO BOW TO YOUR LATEST DARK LORD? And you needn't be expecting me home for the holidays either! You can take your fancy Christmas dinner and stick it where the sun don't shine – I'm staying here at Hogwarts with my _real_ family. You know- the ones that don't accuse me of delinquency for wearing red rather than green!"

Understandably my father was furious. Mother responded to the howler with one of her own, which Bella dutifully reported had the whole of Slytherin house picking fights with him for the next few weeks. True to his word Sirius did not return for Christmas but instead spent in with the Potter's, something that had Mother practically livid.

It was as a punishment of sorts that my father went personally to take him from school in order to return home for my birthday and I doubt I will ever forget the look on his face as he came through the door that evening. His expression was neutral, utterly blank, entirely hollow of emotion, but his eyes gave off an impression of something between kicked puppy and caged wolf. Above all he looked very angry.

With Andromeda gone there was absolutely no one to keep Sirius in check in the presence of so many he disagreed with. He was not in the least bit happy with the situation. For the most part of the first week he just sulked, transforming back to brooding Sirius who had become all too common since his first summer home. He had learned long ago that fighting to have your point heard in my father's household was a losing battle. As unpleasant as it was at the time, to have him sitting in his room, eyes dull, ignoring the rest of us, I prayed to have quiet brooding Sirius back when he finally cracked.

It had not taken much… a simple vague jibe in the direction of Albus Dumbledore and Sirius was on his feet.

He shouted himself hoarse, eyes burning. Eventually he lost control of his magic, the full extent on his power shown in the unleashed flames which sprung from his fingertips and how the portraits crashed to the floor in the wake of the blast. My father had to stun him while a glaring Narcissa escorted Aunt Elisa from the room.

Sirius went back to school the next day. His name became taboo in the house, even the house elf referred to him as 'the Muggle Lover' or 'the Gryffindor'.

* * *

First of September. My first day of school. The excitement was almost too much for me to bear, but it did not show. Emotions were weakness and Blacks were _not_ weak.

Sirius was with the Potters, having left to stay with his friends only two weeks into the summer. I travelled to the station with Bellatrix and Narcissa, Mother talking quietly to my aunt. If either Sirius or Andromeda had been there I would have been asking questions and bouncing the whole way, but as it was I simply sat in silence. In reality Platform Nine-and-three-quarters was little different from the numerous times I had picked up Sirius, but on that day it held a whole new world of wonder. I listened distractedly to my father's talk about my duty to my family and blood, registering several references to Slytherin but little else. I was going to Hogwarts!

I sat with Bella on the train; Narcissa had gone to meet her boyfriend and prospective partner Lucius Malfoy (it was a match Aunt Elisa was particularly proud of, the Malfoys were about as rich and Slytherin as it was possible to get). She introduced me to many of the Slytherins in her year, pointing out other persons of interest as they wondered past the compartment. Head Girl, Slytherin Prefect, Gryffindor mudblood, future Death Eater…

Changed into my plain black robes I stepped off the train, my posture and expression exactly as I had been ordered. A small girl with blonde ringlets tripped into me and I sneered as instructed. Lucius Malfoy nodded in approval. Along with the other first years I followed the half-bred giant down onto the lake, and despite all the stories I was unable to stop myself gawking at the spectacle of the castle.

It was only when the Professor led us into the antechamber of the Great Hall that I realised exactly what was about to happen. Would I remain the Black everyone expected me to be, or would I follow the footsteps of my brother?

Was it too late to hope for Ravenclaw?

* * *

**AN: **Sorry... I always meant to add more to this chapter, but i honestly couldn't think of anything to write so i've posted what i've got and i promise it'll get better at some point.


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